There was obviously a whole lot more going on than he’d first imagined. “Do you think y’all are going to be okay?”
“No.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “That’s a pretty definite answer for a guy who came out here to try to fix things up.”
“Yeah, it is.” Everything in his expression shut down. “Actually, there isn’t a ‘y’all’ anymore for the two of us. Just a lot of what-could-have-beens. I made a lot of mistakes that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repair.”
The guy sounded low enough to be the subject of a country and western song. To his surprise, Jackson found himself wanting to help in some way. “So, what are you going to do now? Just up and leave?”
Seth stiffened. “I was, but I decided to stay a while longer.”
“Why? Do you even have a plan about how you’re going to fix things?” Jackson figured the question was fair game since he’d already told him plenty about his history.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on it, but now I think I need to try to fix some things. I can’t turn my back on her and pretend that I didn’t just cause her a lot of heartache.” Turning back to the suds in the sink, he mumbled, “If that’s even possible.”
Jackson was prevented from offering any more bright words of advice because both Kimmy and a string of college-age guys approached the bar at the same time.
Fifteen minutes later he announced last call. From then until close, Jackson concentrated on filling those last orders and cleaning up for the night.
After they closed, the five of them swept and mopped, took out trash, and tallied the receipts. After writing down everything as clear as possible for Gen, Jackson counted out the tips.
After Brad walked Melissa and Kimmy out, Jackson passed Seth his envelope of tips. “Here you go.”
“No thanks.”
“Take it. You earned it.”
He shook his head again. “No way. I’m not taking money from Genevieve.”
“All right. I’ll put it in the safe. Thanks again. You might as well head on home and get some sleep.”
But instead of rushing out, Seth stayed in the middle of the empty bar. Looking lost. “Yeah. I guess I better go.”
“Hey, Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“It might not mean anything, but … take it from someone who knows. It’s not too late to fix whatever’s wrong between you two.”
The guy pivoted on a boot to stare at him. “You think?”
“No, I know. If you’re both alive, there’s still time.”
Looking pained, Seth nodded before he walked out.
After Jackson watched him get in his truck, he locked the door again, then turned off the lights. Took the night’s receipts and cash and locked it in the safe in Gen’s office.
He went into the bathroom and washed his face and hands and changed his shirt.
Just like he always did.
And then he set the burglar alarm and walked out into the night. There was a slight chill in the air and for once, the sky was clear. He looked up and stared at the thousands of stars twinkling back at him.
For a second, he allowed himself to think of Beth and the life he used to have.
Then he breathed deep and started walking. Realizing that he had a new life now. One that might just be all right after all.
CHAPTER 12
From Les Larke’s
You, Too, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
Though books and videos are helpful, I can promise that nothing beats experience. Even when you lose, you can still learn something.
Sunday Morning
The knock came again on her front door, not ten seconds after it had come the first time. The voice came through loud and clear, too.
“Genevieve, open up.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Seth.” And, yes, she was standing on the other side of the door yelling at him.
“Don’t be like that. You know I’m not ordering you to do anything. I just want to talk.”
“It doesn’t feel that way. You’re sounding really bossy.” He was also sounding a little desperate. Kind of the way she was feeling.
“Calling me bossy instead of a son of a bitch is good, darling,” he drawled. “I call that progress.”
Only he could make her so mad and so … so turned on. It was that drawl’s fault.
“Please, baby?”
She was melting. She really was. But she needed to be tougher if she was ever going to protect herself. “Don’t call me baby.”
“All right. Can I call you darlin’ instead?”
She stared at the wood, slightly flummoxed. How that man could tease her after last night’s conversation was beyond her.
But maybe that’s why she used to love him. Picturing how he must look, she could practically see him smiling at the door. She was kind of afraid she would start smiling, too. She was tempted.
But if they got face-to-face, she would lose her gumption. She was sure of it. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to say the right words, even though they tasted like cheap gin in her mouth. “I think you need to leave.”
“I’m not going to.” Before she could respond, he continued in a much softer voice. “Gen, I know you’re upset with me. I know we have history. I know you’re hurting. But all that means is that you need to give me a chance.”
“It doesn’t. It means that we need to give each other a break.”
“People are passing by. I see them staring, too. They’re wondering what the hell I’m doing out here. You’re gonna cause talk, you know.”
It was unbelievable how he so neatly transferred the blame to her shoulders instead of his. “Let them talk. And if they do, I’ll just go ahead and tell them to—” She cut herself off before she really went down the deep end. Because what was between them had nothing to do with neighbors talking. She knew that, and he did, too.
Standing there, staring at her front door, Gen wondered if she was ever going to do what she really wanted. Was she ever going to finally stop the noise that was in her head and listen to her heart?
And for that matter, was that what her heart was hoping for? To have to avoid Seth Parks for the rest of her life?
No. She didn’t know a lot, but she’d learned over the last two years that life was too hard to not give people second chances. Maybe she needed to heed that lesson and for once actually do the right thing. She needed to stop running, stop avoiding what was hard and face it.
She needed to face Seth. After taking a breath, she called out, “You know what? Fine. I’m going to let you in, but you’re only staying ten minutes.”
“Okay. Let me in, Gen.”
She unlocked the deadbolt and turned the handle. And there he was. Six feet, two inches of muscles, brawn, dark looks, and almost-perfection. He was wearing an old light gray T-shirt that most would probably find too tight.
She did not.
His old jeans were so faded they were almost white where the fabric fit him snugly. Some might find them out of style.
She did not.
His hair was a little too long, curling at the ends. He needed to shave, like yesterday. His lips looked slightly chapped. He was a mess.
She happened to think he was also gorgeous.
Which meant that he was also dangerous for her to be around.
And it was only almost-perfection because there was no way she was going to allow herself to think about him in any other way but flawed. Imagining him as perfect had only given her hours of hurt.
He walked through the door and simply stared at her. “Okay? Are we okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good.”
She turned on her barefoot heel and led the way to her small sitting room and sat down. Then, on purpose, di
dn’t say a single word, because she didn’t know what to say.
Seth sat down across from her, leaned his elbows on his knees, and studied her for a long moment.
“Girl, you love hard.”
Out of all the things he could have thought to say to her, that was what he chose to say? “What?”
“You love hard. Never halfway. Of course you were going to mourn for our baby.”
He went there? Without waiting even a couple of seconds to warm up to the topic? “Stop.” She jumped to her feet.
“I’m not going to stop. We need to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Okay. How about this? I need to talk about it. I’m going crazy, thinking about you handling all of this alone while I was just out doing my thing.” His voice thickened, like each word was made of glass and they were hurting him to speak. “The guilt is killing me.”
“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”
“I should have been there by your side.”
She couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t think about how it might have felt to not be alone. To have had someone else to lean on. “You didn’t know. You can’t fault yourself for that.”
“What happened? Would you at least share what happened with me?”
“I already told you. We had sex. I got pregnant.”
“I know I was out of town, but I sure wish you would’ve called me.”
“At first, I really couldn’t believe it. I think I took seven pregnancy tests.”
“I would’ve done the same thing.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I mean, I would’ve been in shock.”
Seeing that smile, her body eased some. That was something they’d always had in common. They liked to be in charge. Liked to plan. Didn’t like to ever be unprepared. She realized then that an unplanned pregnancy would have set him off just as much as it had her. Not because he would’ve blamed her … but because it had happened out of his control.
“When I got in to see the doctor, she confirmed I was probably eight weeks pregnant.” She scanned his face. “Not very far along at all. I went home with about a dozen little brochures and a prescription for prenatal vitamins. I couldn’t believe it.”
“So?”
“So, I knew I had to tell you, but I wanted to be ready when I told you. Because I knew you were going to have questions. I knew you were going to want to make plans right away, and I wasn’t ready for that.”
“I would like to think I wouldn’t have been such a jerk and pushed you, but I might have.”
Worrying about his reaction and what he would want to do with their relationship had scared her. “I decided to give myself a week. I was going to read the pamphlets, start taking those vitamins, and drink more milk. I had a plan.”
“And you don’t even like milk.”
She chuckled. “My first gallon of milk was chocolate.” It was almost kind of nice sharing this part of the story with him. The rest of it was so hard, she hadn’t let herself remember how she’d felt the first time she went to Kroger with a baby in mind.
“Like for kids.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Then, like I told you, I started having cramps in the middle of the night. That’s when I realized I was bleeding.”
“What did you do?”
“I drove myself to the hospital.”
He closed his eyes. “I still hate that you were alone.”
It had been rough. She’d been hurting and bleeding and scared to death. “When the emergency room doctor examined me, he said that I had lost the baby. That I’d had a miscarriage.” Afraid to look at him, she gazed at her hands, which were tightly clenched on her lap. “They kept me overnight. Well, until around four o’clock the next afternoon to make sure I was okay. And then I went home.”
She’d gone home, taken one look at that chocolate milk in the refrigerator and the vitamins on the kitchen counter and dissolved into tears. Cried all night.
“Genevieve.”
She lifted her chin. Forced herself to meet his eyes. “What?”
He didn’t look mad. His expression looked carefully blank. “I wish you would’ve called then.”
“I couldn’t.” How could she have looked into his eyes and absorbed his disappointment?
“I’ll rephrase. Why didn’t you trust me enough to know I wouldn’t hurt you?”
“Because then I would have had to look into your eyes and tell you that I wasn’t good enough. That there was something wrong with me.” Her voice cracked, revealing that she wasn’t even close to being okay, or feeling good enough, or being anything that she would have hoped to be with him.
But then it didn’t matter anymore, because he was on his feet and pulling her into his arms.
“Seth—”
“Shh. I know. You hate me. I should have known better. You’re right.” He was saying everything she’d thought about him. Making her realize that she’d been hurting so much that she hadn’t had the energy to think about anyone else.
It made her feel a little cold. Like she could have done something different. Been different. Been better.
But he still pulled her closer.
Maybe in another time, on another day, she would have stiffened in his arms or even pushed him away. Instead, she relaxed against him. Wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“There ain’t nothing to be sorry for.”
“I made a lot of mistakes.” She’d had secrets. She’d been angry with him. Really angry.
Actually, she’d done so much wrong.
“I made mistakes, too. The biggest one was letting you get away. I should have held on to you. Been braver. Been better. Told you that I loved you no matter what.”
“You loved me?”
“I did.”
“Even though we weren’t good for each other, I loved you, too.”
“Gen, last night, after I got home from the bar, I thought about us. Thought about how I needed to see you even when I was so upset.” His voice thickened. “That’s when I realized something.”
“What?”
“That my feelings for you never left. I grew up and got smarter, but I couldn’t forget how things were between us.”
She hadn’t been able to forget either.
The two of them had been good sometimes, too. She’d spent so much of her life alone. She’d learned the hard way not to depend on other people, not to let her guard down … and then she’d met Seth.
“What are you saying, Seth?”
“That I’m pretty sure I still love you.”
Oh, those words. They still made her get choked up. “Seth—”
“I know you’re confused and probably angry and who knows what else. But I’m determined to win you back, Gen.”
Gen gaped at him. Realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who still had feelings.
For a split second, she even thought about stepping away. Shielding herself from further pain. But then what would she do?
There was only so much pain and heartache one woman could bear.
“Just because you think you still love me … it doesn’t mean that we’re okay.”
“I’m still going to stick around.”
“We might still argue.”
He smiled down at her. “At least we’ll be together,” he murmured.
“Seth …”
But she couldn’t say another word because he kissed her … hard. Kissed her like he was afraid to let her go.
Before she knew what she was doing, she let her arms drift up and hold him tight. Kissed him back.
Because right then, right there? Being in his arms and kissing him back was enough.
CHAPTER 13
From Les Larke’s
You, T
oo, Can Host
a Poker Tourney:
Even if you aren’t 100 percent sure how to play poker, it’s best to appear confident. As host, you set the mood and influence the actions of the other players. If you play too tentatively, everyone around you will, too.
Two Weeks Later
Dani had given in to Jeremy’s baseball dreams. Maybe she was fooling herself, or just too weak to face reality, but she’d told Jeremy that he could try out for the Bridgeport Bats.
He’d been elated and extremely thankful. She’d been so happy to see a glimmer of his old self, Dani had laughed when he’d volunteered to start doing all the dishes and her laundry, too.
“All you need to do is try your best,” she’d said. That was the truth, too. All she needed was for him to be happy again. As she’d expected, he’d been drafted quickly and was now part of two teams. His middle school team and the intensive club team.
Then, practically the next night, reality had set in.
Already she was kicking herself for being so stupid and not actually thinking things through. The Bats organization wasn’t just a lot more work for Jeremy, his being on the roster meant a whole lot more work, money, and time from her.
Baseball had suddenly become the bane of her existence. Oh, not watching Jeremy play—that was often the highlight of her day.
It was everything else that came with it. The practices that ran late. The practice uniforms that always needed washing, the other parents, who were very nice, but seemingly oblivious about how much “just” a hundred dollars meant to a single working mom.
Because the practices had started running later and Jackson had to work, and Kate had become one of her primary sources of income, Dani had also started to simply take Kate with her to the practice field.
That meant she got the three-year-old a little bit earlier most days and was dragging around a tote bag of activities for the little girl to play with during the practices. She’d also had to have a bigger variety of snacks for both her fourteen-year-old and a tiny girl.
During the practices, Kate was a good girl. She seemed to love being outside and playing so much. But all that time playing outside meant she got dirty. So that meant more laundry, since she wasn’t going to make Jackson deal with extra dirty little girl outfits because of her schedule.
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